Our Paths Change
by unsureabouteverything
Summary: To Cas, Dean is a god. He is gorgeous, smart, funny, anything you could dream of. To Dean, Castiel Novak is an unknown, until he, literally, smashes into his life.
1. Chapter 1

_Thump_.

Fuck. I just walked into Dean fucking Winchester. I stand, stammering my apologies.

"Nah, it's fine, don't worry about it, okay? Now where did my… aha!" Dean triumphantly picks up his English binder from the other side of the hallway.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying any attention."

"Obviously you weren't paying any attention to what I just said either. It's fine. See? No harm done." Dean lifts his arms and spins in a circle, showing off his not injured body. Regardless of the pure intent, the opportunity to openly look at Dean Winchester has me weak at the knees.

See, Dean Winchester is a God. Of all, of sex, of men, doesn't really matter what of, I just know that he is. And I am just a mere peasant, awestruck by this honor.

I smile at Dean. "Okay, I believe you." He laughs and puts his arms down, shuffling his books to his left arm. "I don't believe I've ever actually talked to you."

_Well, you did once, about a year ago, but I doubt you'd remember that,_ I think. Lowly peasant, indeed.

"I'm Dean Winchester." Dean holds out his hand. I try to control my inner squealing as I reach out to shake it.

"I know. I'm Castiel Novak."

"Oh, I have heard of you. You're in my grade, right?"

I nod. At least he recognizes the name. Though, with Luci and Michael's reputation, that probably doesn't help my case much.

"Yes, I am. Junior year is quite pleasant, don't you think?" I ask. Dean laughs at the clear sarcasm in my sentence.

"You know, you're kind of funny, Cas."

_Cas. Cas, cas cas. Cas. Oh my God he called me a nickname. Cas. I love it. Oh no, oh no, stay calm_. I realized I had been staring without speaking for longer than is socially acceptable.

"Uh, sorry, but I should go to class."

"Right, yeah, of course. See you around, Cas."

"And you, Dean."

I watch Dean walk away, a bounce in his step. I haven't noticed that before. Is that because of our interaction? Or did he just pick it up recently? I hear a bell ring. Oh, right, class. I turn around and rush back the way I was heading before I collided with Dean.

Class is just hard to focus on after that morning. I make it through calculus without learning a single integral of a trig function. Whoops. I'll have to review those later.

In the doorway to the English room, I pass Dean. He smiles at me. My stomach melts. I'm also pretty sure my face burst into flames. I hope no one noticed. Probably not. No one seems to notice me much. I tend to keep to myself.

But Dean… I could socialize with him all day, just to keep that warm feeling from leaving my stomach.

English passes about the same as calculus did, with the added bonus of another encounter with Dean.

Mrs. Lancaster asks me a question halfway through about _The Great Gatsby_. Now, of course, I read the book, but I have absolutely no clue what we are talking about at the moment. Mrs. Lancaster purses her lips at my "huh?"

"I asked, Mr. Novak, what you think the importance is of marine imagery."

_Oh, shoot. _I should know this. I find it fascinating, quite honestly. So why can't I think? "Um..." _Come on, Castiel, pull yourself together. Stop thinking of Dean, and his beautiful eyes, and beautiful body, and how nice he was even though you crashed into him, and his – goddamn it I said focus. Find an answer._ "Well, I think it's interesting how in the beginning, the green light across the water that represents Daisy is kind of what he spends his whole life trying to reach, and when he finally does get her, it leads him to his death. In water, if that makes a difference." There, that should suffice.

"The pool scene makes _all_ the difference, Mr. Novak. But, yes. I agree with you. Class, what do you think of his idea that…" Mrs. Lancaster walks away, her attention refocused on the rest of the class, leaving me to slump back in my seat, relieved. I really should pay more attention. But those eyes…

Within moments the bell rings, and I stand up and gather my things.

I have art next. We are sketching out and starting a painting. I already know what I want to paint, and so, after a quick sketch of my plan, I start gathering paints. At the end of class I look down and realize I spilled paint on my shorts. I am not utterly destroyed by the stain – acrylics just don't wash out – because it's green. The perfect green.

I put away my supplies and rush to Spanish. I apologize profusely to Señor Eterna and take my usual seat at the back.

By the time the bell rings for lunch, I have almost forgotten my encounters with Dean Winchester, my fantasies replaced by the desire for food.

I eat with Gabriel, the second youngest of my family. Luci and Michael are twins; they graduated last year. Then there's Gabriel, who's a senior. Then me.

Gabriel is really good to me. I can't ever express to him how much I appreciate it. Life at home isn't easy, but he makes it bearable.

After lunch I have three more classes. They all go smooth enough. And then the last bell rings, and I head to my locker. On my way I pass Dean Winchester – we pass almost every day, but he never seemed to notice. Now, though, he smiles and waves at me. He doesn't say anything, but the gesture is enough to send my heart into the clouds.

I wave back, and then we go our separate ways.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dean's POV**

_Riiiiing_.

_Hell yes, _I think, gathering my books and returning to my locker. There he is again, that boy Castiel. Castiel Novak. Before today, I would have said he's a non-entity, but something about him is just haunting, and not in an entirely bad way… I stare at him as he walks away. His trench coat makes him stand out from everyone else, but he looks normal enough without the coat. I shove my books into my backpack haphazardly, thoughts still trained on the bizarre, fascinating boy I collided with this morning.

Poor Cas seemed so scared to run into me. You'd have thought I was about to beat him up. He seems nice enough, though. _Maybe I'll talk to him tomorrow or something,_ I think, slamming my locker and walking towards my brother and my car. Now, see, my pride and joy is waiting for me in front of the school. And Sam's okay too. I chuckle at the really horrible not-actually-a-joke, earning me a questioning stare from Sam.

"Hey little bro, what's up? Have a good day?"

"Hi Dean. My day was alright. Some people are being mean to me though. High school's scarier than I thought. Did you know that? Everyone hates freshman. Why is that? This one sophomore was talking to me, and then just told me I was stupid and left. I mean, how does he even get to say that? I don't know… But my classes are fun. Ms. Mills is really nice, and I really liked Biology today."

Sam talks full speed ahead and I can't get a word in, even to register my indignation at someone being mean to Sam, for the entire ride home. 15 minutes later, we pull into the driveway, and Sam miraculously stops his babbling.

We set up shop in the kitchen, pulling out our homework. Sam gets straight to it, but I stare down at the sentences I'm supposed to be translating into Spanish, distracted. I feel like there's something important happening in my brain, but I can't for the life of me figure it out. I attempt my homework instead, and only realize after 5 minutes that I've accidentally been doodling an eye over my translations.

I wake up bright and early (well, not really bright, my shades are closed, but plenty early) the next morning to the torturous _beep! beep! beep!_ of my alarm clock. I roll over, groaning, and fling my arm out. I miss my alarm clock, but succeed in whacking the bedside table. I sit up, gingerly clenching my sore hand. I frown at nothing in particular, and search for the motivation to get up.

_Come on. Up and at 'em, tiger!_ I sigh and get out of bed, padding over to my dresser. I grab a fresh pair of jeans today, throw on an only semi-wrinkled shirt, and slide my arms into my leather jacket.

Downstairs, Sam is eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table, reading a book off to the side. He looks up and smiles when I enter the room.

"Morning, Dean!"

"Morning…" I reply, yawning. "Anything interesting planned for today?"

"Not really, no. Billy and I are gonna eat lunch together again. He's really cool. I only met him two days ago, but I hope we continue to bond. I might even have a best friend!" Sam says happily, hair flopping as he nods his enthusiasm.

I can't help but smile. "Sammy, you dork," I say, rustling his hair with affection.

My thoughts stray back to Castiel, the dark haired, mysterious boy that seemed genuinely impressed by me. I'm not sure why, but I can't stop thinking about our encounters. It's more than just an ego boost, though Castiel does seem awed, borderline reverent of me.

But a part of me wants to get to know him, to know the boy that looks so innocent and pure, but like he's seen so much. The boy with the piercing blue eyes, that I could stare into forever, if I wanted…

Driving to school this morning seems almost mechanical. I maybe talk to Sammy, but I maybe don't. I can't remember. As I walk into school, arm slung around Sammy with affectionate protection, I can't help hoping Castiel will rush around a corner again.

_What the hell, dude. Get him out of your head. What is up with you today?_ I sigh, patting Sam on the back as he heads off to his locker, and open my own. I get my books for English. I don't understand _The Great Gatsby_ in the slightest, but I have no choice but to be here. I sit down with a thump, a little upset I didn't see Castiel this morning.

English passes at a snail's pace. Finally, _finally_, the bell rings, and I stand up, one of the first out the door. As I'm walking back to my locker, I see him. There, across the hallway, exchanging a calculator for a thin blue book. I walk over to him, though it's not strictly on my way, and stand a few feet away, waiting for him to notice me.

He does almost immediately. "Dean Winchester," He says, locking eyes with me briefly, before facing his locker again.

"Cas." I swear his cheeks go red at that, but I can also see the corners of his lips curving up just a bit.

"How are you today, Dean?" Castiel asks, finally turning away from his locker and giving me his full attention.

"I'm good, Cas, good. Hey, listen, I was wondering if you wanted to eat with me today, get to know each other or something like that?" Castiel stares at me, looking a bit confused. I think over all the words I just said. _Oh God, did that sound like I was asking him out? 'Cause I'm not. Absolutely no. I just wanna get to know him. Also, why is he still staring?_ I cough slightly to try to relieve the awkwardness.

"Yes, Dean, that would be very nice. Where do you sit?" Relief washes over me. A grin slides across my face.

"I usually sit with Ash, Benny, Jo, that crowd."

"No offence, I'm not trying to be rude, but I would prefer not to sit with them as they are very intimidating," Cas says, looking down at his right foot, which is shaking up and down.

"Okay, Cas. I can understand that. Hell, they even scare me sometimes." I laugh, vaguely worried by Castiel's expression. "How about I sit with you instead?"

Castiel looks up again, a brief hopeful look flashing across his face. "That would be lovely, Dean, as long as you don't mind my brother Gabriel. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am already several minutes late to class." Castiel steps around me and walks towards the English classroom.

"Oh, shit!" I say, a little too loudly, and head to my locker to get stuff for Algebra 2.

_Fucking tardies, man_, I think to myself as I speed-walk down the hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Cas's POV**

_Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit oh my God I'm dying. I must be dying. How else would this have just… holy shit oh man I must be dead_, runs through my brain as I scurry into the English classroom.

"Mr. Novak, you are 10 minutes late. Do you have an explanation?" I stand still, unable to respond. What do I say to that? That I was with Dean Winchester and he just asked to have lunch with me? That I'm trying not to squeal insanely right now? No, I can't say that. I try to hide my smile.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lancaster."

"Please see me after class," Mrs. Lancaster says, before turning to the rest of the class and continuing the lesson.

As the bell rings, Mrs. Lancaster heads back to me.

"Mr. Novak, you used to be one of my best students, but I can't help noticing that you've been different these past few days. What is going on with you, if you don't mind my asking?"

I stare at her blankly. My only answer seems foolish. "I suppose I've been distracted. I apologize. I will make sure to focus extra effort on this class from now on."

She stares at me for a moment before sighing and straightening her shirt. "Make sure that you do, Mr. Novak. I would hate to see you fail my class."

I walk out of the class, thinking that she seemed a bit harsh. It's been two days. Does she really think that will screw up everything? By the time I get to art, I'm torn between frustration with Mrs. Lancaster and excitement at eating lunch with Dean. I really hope he likes Gabe, and that Gabe isn't too embarrassing.

By the time art is over, Dean is, once again, all I can think about. I wonder what he meant by "get to know each other." Are we really just going to sit there like it's the first day of high school, and share our name, our interests, shit like that? Or does he actually want to know me? Why the sudden interest in me, anyway? We've gone to the same school for seven years. Why does he care now when he didn't then?

I barely notice Gabe steal my cookie from my tray because I'm so nervous about how this will pan out.

I see Dean walk into the cafeteria. He smiles and waves at me, then goes to get food. My stomach leaps.

"Do my eyes deceive me, little brother, or was that the famous Dean Winchester you never stop talking about?"

My cheeks turn red and I stare down at my tray, though I can't stop the grin from sliding onto my face.

"And, pray do tell, what was the famous Dean Winchester doing, waving at you?"

I keep my gaze down at my tray, my smile widening.

"Cassie, is something going on between you two?"

I flush a brighter red, and finally look up. "No. Maybe. I have no idea. I hope so."

Gabe smiles. Then the grin slips off his face. "If he hurts you…"

"Gabe, don't go all older brother on me, please. I'm not expecting him to… to love me, or anything. But he says he wants to get to know me, and I'm _not_ having you ruin that for me. Please please _please_ don't be embarrassing."

Gabe just laughs. "Alright little bro. I'll see what I can do."

He winks, and I cast him a horrified look, to which he sinks into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Giving Gabe up as a bad job, I turn to look for Dean. He's leaving the lunch line, tray in hand. But instead of coming straight towards my table, he turns right and walks towards Jo, Benny, and Ash. My heart, just moments before caught in my throat, plummets to the floor. He was kidding when he said he wanted to get to know me, wasn't he? He's probably over there now laughing about how stupid I am. I feel my eyes start to water, and blink multiple times to cover it.

I'm staring down at my food, twisting my spaghetti with my fork, dejected, when Gabe punches my arm.

"Speak of the devil! Is our besotted little Cassie really going to eat with the _famous_, gorgeous, Godly, impeccable, De-"

"Oh shut up, won't you!" I hiss at Gabe, swatting at his arm. _Please make him stop._ But then the words that he said sink into me, and I look up, eyes wide. Dean is heading across the cafeteria to my table, and he has a grin on his face.

"Don't look so like a deer in the headlights, brother, or you'll scare him off."

I blink, and try to control my facial expressions.

"Hey, Cas," Dean says as he sidles up to us. "Sorry, just had to tell them where I'd be. They worry, you know?"

"Dean," I say in response, lips twitching up. "Do you know Gabe?"

"No, I don't believe we've met," Dean says holding out a hand. "Dean Winchester."

"Gabriel Novak. I've heard so much about you."

My face turns scarlet, and I sincerely hope that Dean doesn't notice. I stomp on Gabe's foot under the table.

Dean sits down, attacking his spaghetti with an ardor I have rarely seen. "Dude, Ms. Hall would _not_ stop talking today. That class just dragged. Lunch could not come fast enough," Dean says, leaving me to frantically hope he really wanted to see me instead of just being hungry.

"Did you get in trouble for being late, as well? Mrs. Lancaster held me after class."

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Cas. I didn't want you to get in trouble. Yeah, I was late, but my teacher didn't really care. I'm sorry."

I'm touched by his concern.

"So, Cas," Dean continues, casually. "Tell me about yourself." He rests his chin on interlocked fingers, and gives me a cheesy-first-date look.

Before I can speak, Gabe throws his arm around me and says, "Well, Cassie here likes long walks in the rain, and romance novels, and chick-flicks."

"Oh, the horror!" Dean says, a look of fake terror on his face. "Not chick-flicks!"

"Yes, chick-flicks! And bad pop songs, too!"

"Gabe!" I cry, mortified.

Gabe cackles, and Dean chuckles, smile scrunching his cheeks up and crinkling his eyes adorably. I'm mesmerized, wishing I was the one to make him smile like that.

"Enough from your brother, Cas. What do you _really_ like?"

_You_, I think, and then grin at how ridiculous it would be for me to say that.

"Well, I don't know, I really like art."

"Really? You paint?"

"Yes, but I prefer black and white drawings."

"That's so cool. Can you show me sometime?" Dean asks, looking genuinely interested.

"I suppose, if you want, I can show you what I'm working on right now. It's in the art room."

"Great. Just let me eat first. And you should do the same. You've barely even touched your food." I look down and see that Dean's right. I return to twisting spaghetti, this time with the intention of eating it.

"Well, I'll let you two do that, then. I for one am more interested in my food than in art. Sorry Cassie. You'll have to just go without me," Gabe says.

Five minutes later, Dean and I are heading off to the art room alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Dean's POV**

The first thing I see when I walk into the cafeteria is Cas sitting next to a short, blond boy. _That must be his brother_, I think. I smile and wave, insides cheering at the expression on Cas' face in response. I get in line for food, humming Metallica softly.

Tray full of spaghetti, I quickly stop by my table to check in with my friends.

"Hey guys. I'm eating somewhere else today, sorry."

They all turn to stare at me at once.

"What?" I say defensively. "Can't a guy eat where he wants around here?"

"Who is she?" Jo asks, and I roll my eyes as I turn, saying, "Not a girl," over my shoulder.

As I walk over to his table, Cas has that horrified look on his face again. I wonder what that's about.

"Hey, Cas," I say, grinning at the way his eyes light up. "Sorry, just had to tell them where I'd be. They worry, you know?" I sit down, and am introduced to Gabriel Novak. I've heard countless stories of his escapades.

I'm trying to remember what else I've heard about the Novaks when I hear Cas speaking, and quickly try to figure out what he's saying.

"Did you get in trouble for being late, as well? Mrs. Lancaster held me after class."

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Cas. I didn't want you to get in trouble. Yeah, I was late, but my teacher didn't really care. I'm sorry." I got Cas in trouble, 'cause I was stupid and asked him to eat lunch with me, and now he's in trouble, and I feel awful.

"So, Cas," I start, desperately trying to fix the situation. "Tell me about yourself." I rest my chin on my fingers, cringing inwardly at how cheesy this is.

Gabe throws his arm playfully around Cas and says, "Well, Cassie here likes long walks in the rain, and romance novels, and chick-flicks."

"Oh, the horror!" I say, playing along. "Not chick-flicks!"

"Yes, chick-flicks! And bad pop songs, too!"

"Gabe!" Castiel looks like he wants to disappear.

I want to tell him that I actually think he's cute, all flustered like this. I barely contain the thought before continuing, "Enough from your brother, Cas. What do you _really_ like?"

"Well, I don't know, I really like art."

"Really? You paint?" I ask. Castiel as an artist seems to fit so perfectly into my mental image of him.

"Yes, but I prefer black and white drawings."

"That's so cool. Can you show me sometime?" _Why am I so fascinated by this boy?_ I ask myself.

"I suppose, if you want, I can show you what I'm working on right now. It's in the art room." _Yes_ is the immediate answer my brain shouts to me.

"Great. Just let me eat first. And you should do the same. You've barely even touched your food," I say, pointedly looking at his still full tray.

"Well, I'll let you two do that, then. I for one am more interested in my food than in art. Sorry Cassie. You'll have to just go without me," Gabe says.

I don't know why, but my heart flutters slightly, and I start to feel nervous.

"Oh, my God," I whisper. "Cas, this is amazing." I stare awestruck at the half completed painting in front of me. It is a simple painting of a man with indistinct features: boots, jeans, a dark gray shirt, all earthy colors. He stands proudly, chin tilted upwards. But the truly captivating part about the painting is that the man has _wings_. Two huge, black masses, so incredibly detailed that I cannot tear my eyes off them. Black streaks run off the wings and slowly turn to the most brilliant emerald green. It almost looks like blood dripping of the wings.

"Holy hell, Cas. What inspired this? And the wings…" I look up at Castiel, who has been watching me with a hopeful expression on his face.

"You actually like it?"

"This is the most incredible painting I've ever seen." Okay, way too much of an exaggeration, but it's definitely up there.

Cas' eyes grow wide, and he stares at me like _I'm_ the most beautiful painting _he's_ ever seen.

"You… You think so?"

"Really. All of the detail, it's just… It's perfect, Cas."

I don't see it coming. Cas closes the gap between us and clutches me to him in a tight hug. I'm a little surprised, mostly because Cas doesn't seem the type to appreciate physical signs of affection. I grin and wrap my arms around him tightly.

"Thank you, Dean."

I don't know how long we hug for, but it feels like at least a minute. It just feels so right. When I finally let go, Cas keeps his gaze focused on the ground. I can tell that everything between us is riding on what I say next. I want desperately to say the right thing.

"Come on, Cas. Let's go get our stuff for class. Wouldn't want you to be late again, now, would we?" He smiles as he puts his painting away again, and his shoulder brushes mine as we walk out of the art room.


End file.
